Ukitake, MD
by annyenil
Summary: Ukitake Jyuushirou had always been the sick one being looked after. One day, he woke up feeling better than ever: but now the rest of Sereitei is sick?
1. Bed of Roses, Bed of Doses

**Author's Note**: Getting inspired by my own share of endless illnesses. It was quite funny actually, I opened my mouth and everybody was like, "Gosh, you sound like Ukitake." But that didn't feel too good, trust me. Hahahaha.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Ukitake, M.D.**

By annyenil

Ukitake Jyuushirou woke up every morning in the world where monsters, ferocious monsters, and nefarious masterminds were ready to do malevolence any minute, any time. And he was one of the men (and women) born to guard the rest of his world from the evil. The bad. The Hollows. He had to face everyday the countless stacks of drudgery in the form of skyrocketing paperwork, he had to deal with his forever over-loving, over-doting subordinates who accidentally suffocates him at least thrice a day, he had to skive from the occasional mad shinigami pretending to be his adulating subordinate that _actually_ wanted to suffocate him, he had to be prepared to fight any evil, restore any justice and at the same time still keep to his own principles.

But Jyuushirou's worst living nightmare had not been the haunting visage of a vicious Hollow that had murdered his beloved in his childhood, or of a loved one leaving him behind, torn apart by fate. No, no. He had none of that heart-wrenching history. He was pretty much a mellow fellow. His worst nightmare was naught but the must daunting of all: that persistent cough.

One's surmise would normally be that, how could anything be worse than living in fear of a world verging on a deadly war? But being constantly bothered by the cough had really been a pain for the centuries that Jyuushirou had lived. All through the night, his lungs would burn whether it was a distilled summer night, or a chilling autumn, or even a snowy winter. The sheer pain of it would spread all about his chest, churning the insides from his lungs to his heart, to his shattering ribcage.

Jyuushirou was personally a little surprised he made it that far.

Nights were long. Extensively long. Excruciatingly long. He would lay, his eyes wide open and unable to rest because of the pain that was hard to ignore. It would trickle upwards in the most anti-Newtonian manner and tickle him into coughing. He would perspire even in the coldest winter night in those exacting attempts to suppress that impending, inevitable cough.

And when it finally let through, goodness, that shot of pain penetrating through his entire chest like as though a flaming arrow had been shot at him. He had long learnt not to cringe or wince, for any additional movement of any part of his body only served to enervate him further.

And so when Ukitake Jyuushirou woke up on that fine sunny morning after a night of the occasional fever turmoil feeling rather refreshed and energetic, he was almost jumping with joy to find himself temporarily relieved from that never-ending cough. He needed the break. It had been quite awhile since he had been able to go to the garden and trim up his bonsai with Kiyone and Sentarou, or have tea with Shunsui, or drop by to visit Shiro-chan and Rukia-san. It's been awhile since he was able to inhale the fresh morning air raw with dew into his lungs without forcefully projecting it back out. He felt a catharsis cleansing him of all the weariness that had shrouded him for so long.

Almost excitedly, Jyuushirou skipped to the Division Courtyard to look for his faithful Kiyone and Sentarou who made great garden-trimming partners because they always fought to trim the bonsai more beautifully than the other, so they always ended up magnificently shaped giant bonsai, usually taking the form of their taichou's heroic poses. Which was a little embarrassing sometimes, but Jyuushirou appreciated the effort all the same. "Kiyone? Sentarou?" He called, gently tapping on the doors down the hallway, but it felt like as though the entire building of the Thirteenth Division was ghostly and vacated.

That was particularly strange for most of the time; Kiyone and Sentarou would have appeared in a fighting stack at his feet before Jyuushirou even opened his mouth. And today, he actually had to look for them. Not that he minded of course. That daily contentious behaviours of those two had long exhausted him, but he never had the heart to stop their youthful passions. Kaien's death had really driven those two to serve him with their lives: they couldn't live without their leaders, and it was bad enough that one had left, the other always seemed on the verge of leaving.

Jyuushirou shook his head to rid those morbid thoughts. He had more ebullience than he could have ever gathered in his centuries. That was definitely not going to waste. Like a flash of lightning, he quickly located his two fukutaichou at a corner outside his resting room. "Ooops." Jyuushirou scratched his head sheepishly. He had slammed the door into their faces accidentally when he left a moment ago.

"Are you all right, Kiyone, Sentarou?"

"Tai-taichou……We are very, very, very, very, sorry."

"I am sorrier, taichou."

"No, I am sorrier."

"No, _I_ am sorrier." Kiyone stuck a weak fist up Sentarou's crooked nose bridge.

"You see, taichou," Sentarou returned with one smashing down on her head, "We were sick and fell asleep outside your room. Please forgive us."

"No! We cannot be forgiven! You can be a coward, but I, Kotetsu Kiyone, will die for my sins!" With a flash, Kiyone pulled out her sword.

But before Jyuushirou could even hold out a hand to stop her, both she and Sentarou had dropped to the floor like limply rag dolls. He put a gentle hand over each of their foreheads. "Goodness," he exclaimed with much clemency, "They must have been burning in hell during the night." He felt much sorrow, for he had repeatedly asked them not to guard his room at night, but they had always insisted so. And to think his subordinates had suffered so during the night for him was simply unbearable.

Without hesitation, he disappeared into the morning sun, rushing to look for Shunsui for help.

"Sui, I need your help." Jyuushirou announced at the rooftop where Shunsui was, as usual, recumbent with a straw hat over his face. He waited for a response. Now, that was anomalous, for by this time, Shunsui would have hopped up in his Superman uniform to save his best friend Ukitake from whatever distress he was facing. Instead, Shunsui merely had a snorting sound escape him without any movement.

Jyuushirou reached out to lift the straw hat, only to have Shunsui suddenly grabbing it very tightly over his face.

"What is the matter with you, Sui?"

"Nothing."

"Then let go of the hat. You are going to suffocate to death from it."

"I am already dead."

"Take it off." Ukitake warned like a mother warning one mischievously stubborn kid.

"Fine." Shunsui slowly lifted the hat, his eyes tightly shut as though in fear of something very bad happening. Jyuushirou's eyes opened wide.

"Goodness, Sui." Jyuushirou could not believe his eyes. His best friend was covering his face on his rooftop because his self-esteemed had plummeted due to his face being covered completely in ugly blemishes. Kyoraku Shunsui was having chicken pox. "You are going to the Fourth _now_!" Jyuushirou avowed, grabbing Shunsui, but this man's weight and obdurate nature had no match, especially when it concerned his reputation and appearance in public.

"Fine, you be stubborn. I will go get Nanao-san to help me."

"Don't bother," said Shunsui in his aberrant lifeless drawl, "She's got it too."

"Well, I will go find other people in your Division."

"They've got it too."

"Sui, are you trying to tell me that your entire Division has chicken pox?"

Shunsui nodded in resignation.

"And my entire Division has fever and flu?"

"They do? How interesting……" Shunsui had drifted off into deep uncomfortable slumber.

With a sigh and a puzzle in his heart, Jyuushirou set off to the Fourth Division. When he arrived, again, he could sense something wrong. Unohana senpai wasn't, as she usually was, at the doorstep with Isane welcoming him with that nice, warming smile of hers. Instead, a similar shadow seemed to be looming over the Fourth Division as well.

"Unohana senpai? Isane? Anybody?"

A very shifty looking Yamada Hanatarou crawled out of one of the rooms and bowed. "U-ukitake tai-taichou."

"What is going on here, Officer?"

"The entire Fourth Division is covered in swells and rashes." He bowed meekly, fighting the urge to scratch his back and buttocks which were also covered in swells and rashes. Jyuushirou sensed this and decided to let off this little officer.

What was going on in Sereitei? He asked repeatedly as he walked hurriedly to the Division Office where he knew Unohana would be resting.

Jyuushirou needed an answer to this peculiarity.


	2. Call Me Doctor

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Ukitake, M.D.**

By annyenil

"Unohana Senpai?" Ukitake Jyuushirou poked his head cautiously into the Fourth Division Office, only to fine a Unohana Retsu with half her head swallowed in a large whale-like creature that is her shikai. "Who is it?" A mumble came from inside the creature, along with a generous portion of slimy drool. Jyuushirou tried to shrug the goo off as he answered alertly, "It's me, Jyuushirou."

"Pardon my rudeness, Ukitake taichou," Unohana lifted the mouth of the whale off and stood up to welcome Jyuushirou, her entire body covered in wet slime. Her long, jet black braid was soaked and bits of her fringe had stuck onto her forehead like sea-braised seaweed. He gulped. He had never seen the Fourth Division taichou in such a messy fix before. "It seems like everybody is sick, Unohana senpai." Jyuushirou spoke, bowing with as much respect as one could summon for a motherly woman bathed in drool.

"Yes, indeed, Ukitake taichou. There seems to be some inane man among us who had decided to play a joke on all of us. However, even my Minazuki," she patted the large whale, which wagged its tail fin, creating nearly a tsunami of a mixture of saliva and wind around the office, "She can't help me fix this. I was hoping if you could help me ease up the discomfort of all the Divisions. Perhaps some of them would not be so sick."

Jyuushirou nodded incredulously. The entire Gotei Thirteen, sick? And he was the only healthy person around? He would get to take care of people? This was the greatest day of his life! No more coughs, no more sandpaper scrapings in his throat, no more flames igniting and burning in his exhausted lungs. This was what he had dreamt about all his life! If such a presence could be allowed, he would have leapt into the air and shouted "Yippee!"

"Take the kit with you, Jyuushirou." Ukitake was a little surprised by the eschewing of honorifics. It seemed that his senpai was on the verge of going mad with that extremely itchy rash, so with much gentleness, he picked her up and threw her (quite accidentally slip) into the mouth of Minazuki again.

"Can you breathe in there, Unohana Senpai?"

"I'm fine." Came a muffled voice. Jyuushirou grinned and took off with his new "Doctor's Kit" to visit all the Divisions. He felt as light as a feather, floating in the air, along with the breezy wind, that carried him, and twirled him round and round like in a waltz. It was so unfamiliar, so surreal, and every single bit fantastic. It had been so long since the burden that was his illness had been lifted off his shoulders. It seemed like as though he had spent the centuries of his life hoisting a heavy block of steel, forever laden upon his feeble body, forever straining and stretching the limits of his physique and mind.

He pinched himself quite unbelievably, and found that a shot of pain penetrated his arm. It was indeed a blessing. Jyuushirou hummed his ebullient tunes and headed for the first Division that came to mind.

"Yamamoto-sama. We……we have a visitor." The guard standing alongside the Commander General wavered a little as the aberrance of a healthy, strong Ukitake Jyuushirou appeared in sight. "Are we having hallucinations?" The guard asked the other, as they uneasily rubbed their noses and shifted about quite anxiously.

"Jyuushirou, you were like a son to me……" Yamamoto lifted up his head and Jyuushirou nearly burst into laughter. It took a man of utmost self-control to suppress that fit of giggles swelling up his esophagus like one of his ever-so-familiar coughs. In addition to the already exorbitantly wrinkled visage of the aged General-Commander, Yamamoto now fashioned two dark patches that resembled on of Yachiru's pranks under his two eyes. _Those eye bags are like kangaroo pouches!_ Ukitake thought to himself furtively, at the same time noticing that the guards around featured the same thing on their faces, alone with a weary, fatigued look that formed a drowning shadow engulfing the First Division.

Everybody was sleepy.

"What is going on, Commander?"

"We all have insomnia." With that, the General Commander collapsed back into his seat, his face buried deep in his large, coarse hands, his eyebrows furrowed into a painful knot. It must be difficult for an old man who needed rest to have no sleep at all. "Have you tried anything yet?" Jyuushirou asked the guards kindly, who dropped to their knees and begged, "Everything! Ukitake taichou, everything!"

"Yes!" The other guard also could no longer take the sleeping spell. "We did all we could to get the Taichou to sleep. But nothing could work. We had every single shinigami in the Division dressed up as sheep for him to count. We tried singing lullaby in every key available, even a chromatic version. We even tried knocking him out with a hammer." The guard scrunched up in distress as Jyuushirou considered their silly remedies and chuckled. He opened up his brand new kit and fished around.

"Why don't you have these?" He handed over bulks of sleeping pills to the shinigami.

"Ukitake taichou, you want us to commit suicide?"

"No, no." Jyuushirou truly wondered if they had been this thick all the while or if the lack of sleep had gotten into their heads, "Just take one and you should able to sleep quite well."

"But, Ukitake taichou, there don't seem to be enough of these."

"Well, those who can't sleep will eventually have to fall asleep. Otherwise they would die. Either way, don't bother with them." Jyuushirou waved at them and frolicked into the empty streets of Sereitei, quite content with his first attempt at doctoring people. It was getting quite fun and he couldn't wait to see where his footsteps would lead him to next. Jyuushirou smiled an energetic smile and hopped on, feeling more gratified than ever that his strength was not enervated quickly as it usually would be.

"Ukitake taichou, help us! Please help us!" Jyuushirou glanced up, ready for his next client. Not quite.

"What is the matter, Tetsuzaemon fukutaichou?" Jyuushirou asked as a flustered Tetsuzaemon grabbed his sleeve and flung it about desparately.

"Come with me-" He said, spitting out a mouthful of white froth as his raced against the abilities of his own body. "Please hurry before I give in to this. My division has-has……"

Panting heavily, the two entered the Seventh Division which suddenly resembled a mixture of an African wild safari and the equally wanton dark streets of Chicago. There were shinigami everywhere, tearing at one another, tearing at themselves. Some of them had little fabric left as their scratch and bite one another in the most savage manner there could possibly be. "Tai-taichou is there……please." With that, Tetsuzaemon collapsed onto the floor.

Urgently, Jyuushirou flung open the door of the Seventh Division Office. To his shock, he had a great monster charge at him. Upon closer look after defending himself, he found Komamura taichou growling at him with yellow, animalistic eyes unlike his usual tame self. Just like every other shinigami in the Division who were suffering, Komamura had his haori torn and tattered in several places like he was Robinson Crusoe and had been living in some desolate island. Another alarming similarity all members of the Seventh Division shared was that they all had white froth brimming their mouths.

"Ko…komamura taichou……" Jyuushirou said in a trembling voice at this unbelievable sight, "You have rabies!"


	3. The Problem With Canines

**Author's Note: **It's been awhile since I've had the time to write. This is such wonderful solace. Please keep reading my works! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Ukitake, M.D.**

By annyenil

It wasn't long before Ukitake Jyuushirou realized what sort of precarious situation he had dangled his perfectly healthy precious body in. He blinked quite blankly at the barking mad Komamura suffering from an agonizing attack of rabies. The best response Jyuushirou could summon was to feel a little sorry for the gigantic canine and his entire Division. That amount of froth could be disturbing and quite resilient to Sereitei detergent. Jyuushirou stood rooted to the ground as he watched Iba and Komamura tore themselves and the entire place down more rapidly than they would have done, with much more gusto than ever.

It was a pity nobody else was around to see this, for if Shunsui had been around, some wry comment might have been solicited from him that would last them a good laugh for quite sometime watching an enormous dog savagely growling at an equally animalistic man with, according to Shunsui, the worst hairstyle _and_ beardstyle in the history of hairstyles _and _beardstyles. Coupled with those sunglasses? It was nearly and inane comedy, until Jyuushirou's Hippocratic instincts reminded him that he was supposed to treat them, and not ponder over how strange they looked. He had already committed a peccadillo of doctoring.

Disparaging himself, Jyuushirou dug into his Doctor's Kit and pulled out a huge syringe full of the rabies jab. It was the most sickly, thick yellow fluid. He figured that much would do for the entire Division. That was, until a sudden loud boom found the Division office without a roof, and mad shinigamis scampering around with contending wounds and deep, maroon scratches. One syringe would take forever to jab all these mad dogs. And the problem was, they weren't even stationary. If he jabbed one, another will immediately bite it, so there would never be a cure. Jyuushirou escaped to a higher location and glanced down at the roofless Division Office with some resignation. He was, after all, an inveterately languid man with little experience in doctoring. Perhaps he would just consign to killing the entire Division? No, Sensei would probably kill _him_ then. After he had woken up, that is.

On any account, Jyuushirou found himself in that bothersome fix above the fracas until suddenly, a flash of bright pink light flew him to the ground, and before he could catch a glimpse of what had happened, a fierce sword had pierced through his glass syringe, spilling the smoking contents all over the ground. The sword was stained with the medicine. "What are you-" Jyuushirou, in his utmost surprise, suffered an evanescent instant of malaise before realizing that it was the most callous man in Sereitei who had just committed the Unthinkable. That genteel presence accompanying the act was most shocking, for nobody would have suspected Kuchiki Byakuya of such malice. "Kuchiki Taichou, why did you?"

Without even so much as a glance at Jyuushirou, Byakuya spun the sword angularly and spoke most gravely, "Chire, Senbonzakura."

With an upward glance at the sky, every single rabid member of the 7th Division received a good jab in the body in the form of a sharp little blade that carried a little medicine on its tip. "I suppose, that duly served your purpose, Ukitake Taichou?"

"Erm……yea……" Jyuushirou nodded, still stunned by that largely entertaining display of the 1001st usage of Senbonzakura. It was even more intriguing than the instances in which Byakuya had cut Renji's hair with it, and when he had it swarm above Shunsui in place of Nanao's usual petals when she had been sent away on a mission. However, Jyuushirou was still mildly dubious of this action, for Kuchiki Byakuya had never been associate with benevolence either, especially on such a strange account, where he seemed to have sprouted out of nowhere. It was as though the heavens could hear him, for an answer was immediately given.

"Please hurry up with me to my Division."

"What is wrong, Kuchiki Taichou. You seem fine."

However, no more a word was exchanged, so Jyuushirou decided to follow Kuchiki Byakuya to his Division, though on his way he could not help but scrutinize at the powerful captain and could find no fault with him that would have signified the problem with his Division. Byakuya kept a perfectly straight visage suffered neither cold sweat nor swelling throats. What could be the problem? Then, Jyuushirou noticed that this master of shunpo actually had unsteady steps. What could be so malicious that the perfection of the hermetic Byakuya could be impinged upon?

With the Sixth Division in sight, Byakuya suddenly collapsed to the ground from the air, with Abarai Renji rushing out to receive his captain, both foundering in large messy heaps of human and large black hakama, clutching their sides in utter nonsensical agony. Jyuushirou was not surprised that Byakuya had reserved his unseen side for his Division only, and had maintained that equanimity all the way from the 7th Division, though his determination had indeed impressed Jyuushirou. At any rate, Jyuushirou immediately pulled out his stethoscope to examine both Taichou and Fukutaichou, only to find that both were suffering from severe stomach muscle convulsions that could not be cured but by time.

"What do you mean, you can't. Do. Anything. About. It." Renji gritted his teeth as he lost all sense of self trying to ease the pain that was not only abating his strength but also rubbing him of his personality as much as sake did. Except sake was actually enjoyable. Somehow being slashed a thousand times by his taichou's thousand blades was a lot more bearable than a little stomach ache, or perhaps it was the fact the he could not observe the source of pain that made the health defect so fearsome. "At any rate, let me help you into the Division Office first."

It was wise of Jyuushirou, for some sneaky paparazzi was already congregating around the corners hungrily snapping photos of a sexily disheveled Kuchiki Byakuya. It was bad for the image. _Bad. _At any rate, since there was nothing Jyuushirou could to ease their sufferings, he would have at least made it more comfortable for the entire groaning Division by putting a sleeping spell over them so that once sedated, the moaning and remonstrance at the heavens were reduced to soft, sweaty murmurs and persistent middle fingers at once another in circumvention. And such was the hectic day for a healthy Ukitake Jyuushirou, he thought as he retired to a shady foliage, pulling out his golden timepiece. Under the afternoon sun it shone like a bright star, telling Jyuushirou of the time. It had already been more than 8 hours and he was famished and exhausted. At least he could take a break now.

He wished.

Within five minutes of enjoying the relaxed state of his new found perfectly healthy body, two large orbs – no, two large breasts had transfixed upon his face as Matsumoto Rangiku bent over him, with a limp arm cupping the left side of her cheeks. She, unlike her usual self, was neither particularly ebullient nor sensual. In fact, a non-coquettish Matsumoto was nearly a stranger to Jyuushirou. Righting himself to face Rangiku's face instead of her frontal assets, Jyuushirou offered her a warm supporting arm and asked gently, "What is the matter, Rangiku-san?"

With an embarrassed shade of pink, Rangiku mumbled, "Kooo-hh ake ii ee Geeebiinn."

"Pardon?" Jyuushirou frowned at this strange message she had conveyed. Ah, he could not read the messages of a deranged patient yet.

"Kooo-hh ake ii ee Geeebiinn!" Rangiku was getting frustration as tears began to swell up in her eyes. The pain she was suffering! And to be not understood by a man for the first time, it seemed like as though she had failed completely in throwing hints around. Frustrated, she knelt down and unsheathed the sword, carving her message into the ground.

"Tooth-ache-in-the-Division." Jyuushirou read, now with much understanding. Rangiku nodded with the most lugubrious eyes as Jyuushirou hoisted her over his wonderfully healthy body and transported them to the Tenth Division promptly, wondering just what else could be ahead for the Doctor.

Jyuushirou could not help thinking, "Poor kid. He's got toothache. Maybe I should cut down on the candy."


End file.
